east likely to startle the babe on whom
his heart was set. At almost every inn, the little children had shrieked
and run from his white and gashed face, and his tall, lank figure in
deep black; and it was very sadly that he said to Philip, 'You must come
with me. If she turns from me as an ogre, your bright ruddy face will
win her.

The men were left at the inn with charge to let Guibert speak for them,
and to avoid showing their nationality. The three months of Paris,
and the tailors there, had rendered Philip much less conspicuous than
formerly; but still people looked at him narrowly as he followed his
brother along the street. The two lads had made up their minds to
encumber themselves with no nurses, or womanfolk. The child should be
carried, fondled, and fed by her boy-father alone. He believed that,
when he once held her in his arms, he should scarcely even wish to give
her up to any one else; and, in his concentration of mind, had hardly
thought of all the inconveniences and absurdities that would arise; but,
really, was chiefly occupied by the fear that she would not at first let
him take her in his arms, and hold her to his heart.

Philip, a little more alive to the probabilities, nevertheless was
disposed to regard them as 'fun and pastime.' He had had many a frolic
with his baby-sisters, and this would be only a prolonged one; besides,
it was 'Berry's' one hope, and to rescue any creature from a convent was
a good work, in his Protestant eyes, which had not become a whit less
prejudiced at Paris. So he was quite prepared to take his full share of
his niece, or more, if she should object to her father's looks, and he
only suggested halting at an old woman's stall to buy some sweetmeats
by way of propitiation--a proceeding which much amazed the gazing
population of Lucon. Two reports were going about, one that the King
had vowed a silver image of himself to St. Ursula, if her Prioress would
obtain his recovery by their prayers; the other that he was going to
translate her to the royal Abbey of Fontevrault to take charge of his
daughter, Madame Elisabeth. Any way, high honour by a royal messenger
must be intended to the Prioress, Mere Monique, and the Luconnais were
proud of her sanctity.

The portress had already heard the report, and opened her wicket
even before the bell could be rung, then eagerly ushered him into the
parlour, the barest and most ascetic-looking of rooms, with a boarded
partition across,